


blood and bruised bunnies

by mori_the_witch



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mori_the_witch/pseuds/mori_the_witch
Summary: hey guys! it's been literally forever since i've posted on here—so take this as an apology gift lolthis was a writing prompt response that i initially posted on virtual space amino. it turned out to be a lot longer than expected, so i'll be writing a chapter 2 at some point.regardless, i hope all my little witchlings enjoy!!!
Relationships: Father/Daughter - Relationship, assassin and a little girl





	blood and bruised bunnies

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! it's been literally forever since i've posted on here—so take this as an apology gift lol
> 
> this was a writing prompt response that i initially posted on virtual space amino. it turned out to be a lot longer than expected, so i'll be writing a chapter 2 at some point.
> 
> regardless, i hope all my little witchlings enjoy!!!

* * *

Frost crept across dark glass and splintered wood panelling as if it were fragile eggshells. The temperature of the room sat exactly at 4° celsius—cold enough to balance out the warm stench of death and blood and rotten things. Blood as thick as velvet slowly flowed out of the lifeless body currently propped against the fartherest wall.

Calum exhaled a lengthy sigh as he dipped his mop in the watered bleach bucket, before shifting to continue his clean-up. This past victim had been a part of a trafficking ring. Lucky him, his contractor had some sort of beef with the old bastard, and had dropped of almost 50k in the dead drop for this man to be taken out. Unlucky him, his contractor was also a buyer from the ring—which meant he'd had to die too. According to Calum's morals at least.

Sighing again, he put the end of the mop in the bucket, and moved it to the opposite corner of the room before going to be rid of the contractor's muiltated body. Grabbing the raggity ace-wrap, he used it to cover up the deep slip in the dead man's throat, then dragged him to the trashbag—already filled with waste from KFC, torn up towels, and even a damn hairbrush. From there, Calum sealed the man away and proceeded to take him to the nearest incinerator.

═════════════════

The drive back to his hideout from Texas was a gruesome one. Nearly 4 hours; not including all the stops he had to make for gas, food, and to take a piss. He needed to stop doing this shit on his own, and start having other people drive for him. Wouldn't want his precious 2018 Chevy Malibu Hybrid to start smelling like fish and rotten toe fungus—sporting just a hint of soy sauce. Frebreeze was already on his shopping list.

Turning into the alleyway of his building, Calum shifted his car into park, before hopping out and strolling to the old back entrance. This past assignment took a little longer than expected; so he could only imagine the capacity of his Dead drop. Ah, the perks of being one of the best contract killers in this damned world; he could never catch a fucking break.

Jamming his key into the rustic lock and twisting, he swung open the door, not bothering to close it behind him as he stalked over to the front of the apartment, grumbling something about 'how he was getting too old for this'. As expected, a pile of letters, packages, and various other things sat pathetically on the doormat—having found their way in from the old land lady who doesn't give a shit about anything. Swearing to himself in a language he doesn't bother to translate, Calum crouched down and gathered the stack of assignment offers and carried them towards his own personal oval office in the center of the apartment. 

With an aggitated grunt, he dumped them on his desk and began to sort through them. However, as he did so; a certain envelope caught his eye. It weighed more than the others induvidually, and had very uneven handwriting on the front—almost as if written by a young kid. Simply addressed "Mister" on the front, along with a suburban looking address. Surprisingly, one not too far from here. Out of his intrigue, Calum unsheathed a pocket knife, and slit open the top of the envelope.

Inside was a twenty dollar bill, and two ones—along with various types of coins. As icing on the cake, a small, worn slip of paper was sandwiched under all of it. Raising a brow, Calum dumped the money onto the desk, and counted. $23.42 in total. Nothing more and nothing less. He scoffed. What sort of improverished ass would be so desperate to have someone dead, that they would give away money donated to them while on the streets—thinking that such a small amount would be able to compensate for a human life? Grasping the small note and shaking his head in diapproval, Calum raised it into his line of vision and silently read the scribbled letters.

' _dear mister,_

_I'm not sure if you know me, or care about me. or anyone else. but there has a been rumor going around school that you take care of people for money. the other kids say you would take care of me really easily, for a small amount. something like you would do it out of pleasure. i'm not sure if that's true, but if it is, can you come take care of me? my papa can be very mean, and my mom gets mad at me and says nasty things sometimes. i don't like how they hit me and scream at me even when i try to be a good girl for them. some of the other people nextdoor say mama and papa don't take care of me well. those people never want me to hear them, but i do anyway. mama and papa dont really listen to me, so maybe they will listen to you. will you help me calm them down? or maybe even teach them how to take care of me. here's all my lunch money that my teacher gave me for the past 2 weeks. i hope it's enough for you._

_love,_   
_emmy'_

'Nevermind', Calum thought. $23.42 was more than enough to compensate.

══════════════════

Calum stood and watched as kids from small to medium ran across the grassy front yards of the elementary. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the various scattering heads. This Emmy girl had attached a shitty quality picture of herself and her parents. From the look if it, she was a short girl with red hair that was curly and bigger than her torso. Poor girl must be bullied for how wild it was. At the very least, it'd be easier for him to spot her in this sea of cretins currently going batshit crazy.

Finally, he spotted her. Emmy, with her hair ginger as crazy as it was in the photo—in old and dirty clothes that were a little too big on her fraile frame. From what he could see, she had linen and lace wrapped around her arms; and a bandage in her cheek to match. Calum already knew who gave her whatever bruise or cut hiding beneath it. His blood froze at the thought.

Shaking off the chill in his spine, he awaited all the other kids to leave sight before going towards the depressed looking child—who didn't seem to notice his presence until he was directly beside her.

Hazel-green eyes looked at his boots; making a slow trek up his 6'3 frame. When she finally met Calum's eyes, she flinched—as if were a subconcious reaction. Calum's frown only deepened.

"Are you this Emmy girl who gave me this note?"

Calum held up the small letter between his fingers as if it were a cigar. The little girl, Emmy, nodded meekly—seemily shrinking into an invisible shell; A defence mechanism. Calum sighed, and crouched to her height, reaching out a large hand for her to take.

Emmy hesitated; the look on her round face skeptical and afraid, but she grasped onto his pointer finger anyway. He gave her a little encouraging grin and led her to the wooden bench by the concrete pathway. They sat in silence for a comfortable, however tense, moment. That is, before Calum spoke up.

"So... your parents huh?" A nod of comfirmation "And you want me to 'take care of them'?" Another nod. "You know that means you'll never see them again right?" Emmy perked up at that. In a raspy, yet somehow still high pitched voice, she whispered to him.

"Will they never want to see me again? Are you gonna take them away? What will happen to me?" Calum was alarmed and how panicked she seemed. Even when the living daylights are beat out of them, people somehoe still found a way to love their abuser. His heart twisted, and he frowned.

"No—well, yes..." Calum sighed, and rubbed his temples with the hand she didn't have a death grip on, "They are bad people. As your mom and dad, they shouldn't be yelling or hitting you like they do now. That's not how parents should act, and it can be bad for you and your future. Do you understand?" A sob was his only response, and his black eyes shot open at the sound.

Probably hyper-extending his neck while doing so, Calum whirled his head to face her. The damn kid was crying, clutching at him as if he was her last tether to life. In a sick and twisted way, he was.

In a fruitless attempt to get her to calm down, or shut up, he reached around to rub small gentle circles on her back. After about 5 minutes, she began to get herself together. Calum frowned at the snot on his gloves.

"Where will I go after they leave? I have no other family, and my school friends say don't like dirty kids past their front porch. I've also heard of foster homes, and people say they can be just as bad as how you say my parents are." Emmy spoke barely above a whisper—her voice still quivering from any remaining unshed tears. 

Calum, once again, swore in a language he really couldn't bother to translate. He was going to kill the parents—oh, there was no doubt about that. However the problem lain before him was what to do with the kid after? She had a point; he couldn't exactly just drop her off at a foster home and call it a day. Who knows what type of shit may happen to her—CPS was crazy in that sense.

Lulling over the possibilities and their outcomes, Calum heaved an over dramatic sigh, and looked back down at the shaking girl. He frowned at the bandage on her cheek, and said, "I'll take you in myself."

෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.

Calum was starting to contemplate his life decisions.

In his passenger seat, draped in his coat; was Emmy (he also found that her full name was actually Emilia). She was silent, and her gaze was Vacant as she stared out at the rain—which had unceremoniously decided it wanted to pour right as they left the school grounds.

He hated kids, but he didn't. None of which made any sense. What sort of bullshit instinct had cause him to offer her sanctuary? He was a contract killer; an assassin. A killer for governments and underground rings alike. There wasn't exactly any room for him to take in a whole child. So, why in ever-loving hell was he so damn sure about this?

Calum snuck a glance over to Emmy, Deciding he needed to make a call to an old pal of his. Grabbing an already connected bluetooth earbud and putting it into his ear, he called up Dmitri. Calum was sure to speak in a way Emmy couldn't understand—almost as if it were to protect his pride from any further damage.

"Hello? Who has the balls to call me while I'm busy?" The other end spoke in english, but his accent made up for that. Calum chuckled and replied in Russian.

_"Well, Dmitri, you certainly answered unnaturally quick for someone who was so busy." There was a heartbeat of silence, then some very ear damaging shuffling before Calum recieved a reply._

_"Calum, my old friend, I will always make time to answer a call from a man I consider my brother." Dmitri did such a shitty job of playing that off, but Calum decided to mess with him later._

_"Alright, cut the sentimental crap man. I need your help with something. Meet me at my apartment within the hour, and bring your computers and shit."_

_Calum could hear the arising question in Dmitri's voice, "You? Needing my help? Why do you need me to—" Calum hung up on him._

Taking the earbud out of his ear, Calum glanced to Emmy. The latter looking at him as if he were Morningstar himself, or a god. Maybe a hybrid between the two if he was being facetious.

"Are you apart of the mafia..?" Emmy's tone suggested she was terrified, yet intruiged. Calum snorted in response.

"Nah, I've gotten offers; but turned them all down. I try to work alone, despite having a good hanful of connections." He regretted saying that, even if the poor kid showed she had no idea what he just said. Or rather, implied.

"Oh." Was her only answer. Calum was content with that.

══════════════════

Finally, they made it back to Calum's apartment. The rain was coming down harder, and Emmy flinched at the strikes of lightening leaping from the clouds, then again at the booming thunder that followed. She couldn't stop herself from shaking.

Calum parked the car next to what looked like a Lamborghini in the back driveway. He unbuckled himself and glanced to the little girl across from him. His eyes widened at the state she was in.

Emmy couldn't move. Her joints were frozen in place, yet itching to move; to strike; to run—at the same time. She tried to force herself to move, to blink; something to snap her out of her fear. The thunder crashed again, and for a horrid moment, she was back in that corner— trying, and failing, to shield herself against whatever papa wanted to beat her with that day. Her tears were a hot contrast to the ice on her skin. 

She couldn't move, she couldn't think, she couldn't _breathe_.

"Oh shit." Calum swore. Whatever the fuck was happening to her, it wasn't good. And by the looks of it—she couldn't control it.

Swearing again, Calum reached, and wrapped her tigher in his coat. Ignoring the way she visibly flinched at the touch. Pulling her small body into his large chest, he opened the door, and ran her inside, kicking it closed behind him. He silently apologized to his car as he ran. Calum did his best to cover her from the chilly rain and the view of the lightening strikes.

Emmy only stuck her face into his shoulder.

══════════════════

Dmitri was sitting in the office when Calum rushed in, holding what looked like a child tightly to his person. His eyebrows shot up in shock, and he swung his feet of the desk. What in hell was Calum, a world known assassin, doing with a child—looking like he just saw the face of satan himself? 2020 really doesn't stop surprising, huh.

Dmitei grunted, and jogged to catch up to Calum in his urgency. This had to be the reason he was called over. Something to do with that kid.

This whole situation just became a whole lot more interesting.

══════════════════

Calum gently placed Emmy onto the couch of his living room. The latter still shaking violently. How the hell was he supposed to stop a panic attack? He knew that the girl most likely was going to have, or develop, PTSD from her abuse—but he didnt expect for her to have an attack because of a storm. Calum made sure to add making a trigger list to his to-do.

He kneeled next to the bed, grabbing Emmy's hands and forcing her to meet his charcoal gaze. Calum knew all to well the struggles of PTSD, having suffered from it in his early years.

"Emilia, Focus on me. Meet my eyes and focus on me. Breathe." Calum's voiced dropped down an octave in an attempt to sooth her. To show no harm was meant to her. 

"Hold your breath, and count to 5, then slowly release. You're okay; you can't be hurt here. Shhh..." It took her a few tries; and Calum waited patiently for her to collect herself. After a few minutes, Emmy finally calmed down enough to be coherent. However, sobs still wreaked throughout her body.

Calum stayed until she was fast asleep.

.෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.෴.


End file.
